


The King's Guard

by The Curator of The Sands (GrimRevolution)



Series: Voltron Whump Week 2017 [6]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, I didn't mean to write this ship, Just... go with it, Pidge | Katie Holt-centric, The war never happened and everyone is altean, it just fucking happened, u wanna know something?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 07:53:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11847216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrimRevolution/pseuds/The%20Curator%20of%20The%20Sands
Summary: Parties were always the most dangerous part of her job.This one just happened to be the most rewarding.





	The King's Guard

Pidge slipped through the crowd of delegates, advisors, ambassadors, and, well, quite frankly anyone else who was rich enough to be at the party King Alfor was hosting in honor of his daughter. Allura was sitting at the place of honor at the high table, her hands in her lap and listening with an intent look on her face to the alien with four arms currently demanding her attention.

Except her eyes were focused just a bit too forcibly and she hadn't responded back with anything other than an "interesting" and "oh! Well, how fascinating" in the past half hour. Pidge, a tray of drinks in one hand, dodged around another group of people and stopped only when someone made a grab at one of the glasses. A smile had been plastered on her face for so long that her cheeks were starting to hurt but Hunk—the head Chef—told her that ‘presentation was everything’ and that she had to act like she enjoyed the job for this evening.

At _least_.

Someone bumped her and it took every single ounce of balance Pidge had for her not to topple over and lose everything she was holding. The ' _hey'_ almost managed to slip out between her teeth but she swallowed it with difficulty, straightened up, and continued on her way to the royal table.

Another competitor, an alien from planet Ohgihron, was stepping up to the table and bowed low, offering the princess the drink in his hand and nodding over to the bar.

"—Gentleman over there requested for you to have this, My Lady Allura," he had a charming grin, that is, if you compared it to the rest of his species, and skin the color of one of the King's great intergalactic ships. He was motioning to Lance who had taken over at the bar since the regular had called off due to a family emergency, and was currently surrounded by a bunch of aliens who 'oohed' and 'ahhed' at his tricks.

Pidge frowned.

Lance turned to someone who had gotten his attention and their eyes caught for a second. All drinks for the royal family were supposed to have come from the kitchens. No exceptions. She nodded towards Allura and he squinted, then shook his head.

No one noticed the sound of metal, wood, and liquid crashing to the floor and Pidge was small enough that she could squeeze between the guests with ease.

Allura was taking the glass and said something, her voice quiet.

Probably a 'thank you'.

Every bit of Pidge’s body slammed into the table and the guests sitting there shrieked as their drinks toppled and spilled across their dinners. It didn’t matter, none of it mattered, because she had managed to brace one hand on the table and lift herself high enough so her palm covered the top of the glass before a single drop could pass the Princess’ mouth.

Allura's eyes snapped open as her lips touched skin and she stared at the servant who was currently using every last bit of her strength to keep her balance on one hand and not topple over and onto the princess.

"What is the meaning of this?" King Alfor said quietly, looking between the hand pressed to his daughter’s mouth, the woman that hand belonged to, and the Princess herself.

"I apologize for the disturbance, Your Majesty," Pidge said, her arm shaking from the strain, "but no drinks are to be given to the royal family unless they come from the kitchen."

The king raised a single eyebrow, "and who was it that made this rule?"

"I did," General Shiro spoke up from the far left of the table; he was standing, the prosthetic arm glinting under the crystal lights on the ceiling and blue army uniform standing out from the brighter colors around him. "I apologize if I was out of line, your majesty," he said, "but with the death threats to your daughter's life, we thought it would be wise to take extreme precaution."

"No," Alfor sat slowly back in his seat, "you are correct, and I am grateful."

Pidge offered the Princess a shaky smile and slowly pulled back until her feet were on the ground and the cup was away from Allura's lips. The liquid inside was a bright blue, Lance's signature _Blue Lion_ and she held it carefully in her hands before bowing low to the royal family. "I am sorry for disrupting you," she said, looking down at her feet.

"No need," the king waved his hand dismissively, "I am glad that the general has taken such measures to ensure that my daughter is safe."

Allura was staring at Pidge and her gaze was hot on her forehead. Instead, she glanced over at Shiro. He gave her a nod and a proud grin, one she returned before turning on her heel to head back to the kitchen.

"I apologize," the alien who had offered the drink to Allura was saying as Pidge was leaving, "I did not know—in our culture it is customary to gift our friends with drinks and I had hoped that Altea and my planet would have a peaceful alliance."

His tone was dismissive but this party had been all about gaining alliances further out than the solar system. Pidge tried to walk as quickly as she could down the steps, hands holding the glass as tightly as she dared. He hadn’t mentioned anything about it being a gift when first offering it. At least, not a gift from _himself._

Liar.

_Liar._

"Servant boy."

Pidge froze, shoulders tense and back straight. Her eyes focused ahead to the door that led to the safety of Hunk and his pots and pans.

There was no room to disobey.

Pidge turned on her heel and Alfor was motioning her to come back to the table. She couldn't stop her eyes from flickering to Shiro but he was watching the king and the alien that had offered the drink in the first place.

The King held his hand out for the cup and Pidge, gritting her teeth in her jaw, handed it to him. "Would you say it's poisoned, servant?"

Pidge opened her mouth but nothing came out for a second. Eyes were watching her from all around the room. It was silent, and their gazes were heavy on her skin. "I believe every drink not personally checked or made by your guards is poisoned," she said and, added quickly to the end; "Your Majesty."

"A good ideology to have," Alfor mused, "would you not agree, Ambassador Chilquin?"

The alien was watching Pidge, just like everyone else, his gaze unblinking, "yes," he said, not looking at the king, "a very wise statement."

She met his eyes straight on. He was not her king.

"Well," Alfor said, a tint of amusement in his voice, "my people are your friends now, are they not?"

Chilquin blinked and turned to the King, "yes, your majesty, I would say they are."

"Then this gift could be accepted by any one of them, yes?"

"That would," something fluttered across his expression before it was gone and Pidge could ever fully recognize what it was, "be entirely acceptable, Your Majesty."

Allura was looking between her father and the ambassador, but when the King offered the cup back to Pidge, there was a tightness to her features. "Father," she said softly.

"We must have faith in our new friends," he said back, "if we do not, how can there ever be trust?"

Pidge took the glass and stared at the blue liquid. It swirled around the ice and looked like the bright waters of the lagoon next to the docks where her mother used to take her during the annual family fishing event.

"Servant, would you do your King and Princess the honor of drinking this gift?" Alfor gave her a small smile. It was supposed to be comforting, but Pidge felt cold instead. Chilquin hadn't stopped staring at her. Neither had the rest of the high table. She couldn't refuse, not without making him look foolish in front of his own court, but she didn't trust the ambassador.

One option. One choice.

"Of course, Your Majesty," Pidge said, her own voice sounding far away.

And she raised the cup to her mouth.

Lance's Blue Lion was the same it had always been—cold and a bit sweet with a sting on the way down. Pidge drank it slowly and, when it was gone, placed the glass on the high table. Her hand shook as she let it go and Allura watched her with wide eyes.

There was a fire in Pidge's stomach and she wasn't quite sure if it was the alcohol or the Princesses gaze. She Allura what she hoped was a reassuring smile, but as the burning moved upward through her chest, she wasn't quite sure she managed to achieve that.

"Pidge?"

Shiro's voice reached her and she looked up at her general, wondering when he had managed to move from his place at the far end of the table to right in front of her. Two of him danced around each other, blurring and twisting until she had to shut her eyes before her stomach started a revolution with the rest of her organs.

It revolted anyway and she shuddered, clapping her hands over her mouth as she gagged. Nothing come out. It was stuck, burning in the back of her throat.

"Pidge!"

It was like feeling someone else's' ribs hit the table and watching someone else's legs give out, but it was Pidge who crumbled and fell, gasping, to the floor. People were screaming, but their voices seemed faded and distorted as if they had come from underwater. A hand brushed her cheek and then cupped her jaw and she just—barely—managed to open her eyes.

White hair.

Shiro?

"Breathe, Pidge," his voice didn't come from the white hair in her vision and she squinted and tried to focus. Who...?

"Please, lie still," the words were spoken softly but hard, like they were used to being obeyed, "you've been poisoned."

_Princess?_

Hands were pulling at her arms, forcing her body up and to sit at least somewhat upright. Pidge whined as they pushed her forward so her head was over her knees.

A bucket was shoved into her arms, hands positioned so she could hold onto the metal.

She knew what was going to happen—they'd been over it time and time again in training.

"Open up, Pidge," _Was that Keith?_

It didn't matter, she opened her mouth anyway and he placed a tablet on her tongue that was salty and bitter. She chewed and, before the first swallow, her stomach was torn open and emptied out like a sack. The blockage from her throat was forced open and she jerked, heaving, with heavy great sobs shaking her torso as her diaphragm lurched.

Her eyes were closed and Pidge refused to open them, feeling the tears drip from her chin down into the bucket. A heavy hand was resting on her shoulder, rubbing circles over her spine. Finally, the heaves were dry and she was coughing harshly, throat aching and burning with each hack.

She spat out a glob of _something_ , and someone tore the bucket from her grasp.

Someone was touching her and it sent bursts of cold up her legs and arms. The ground fell away and Pidge groaned, head falling back until it was brought up so her cheek was against a shoulder. Whoever it was happened to be warm. Warm enough that Pidge buried her nose into their neck and breathed in. Voices were blurring together, talking, shouting, and mutters all one and the same, but the one above her stood out.

"He'll be treated in the royal medical center," Allura was saying, her voice vibrating through her chest and causing Pidge to sigh, "please do not let us dishonor him by doing otherwise."

"Of course, your highness," Shiro said, and there was something tired in the way he said it. "We only ask that the recovery be private."

Allura took a deep breath and Pidge felt it move through her as the chest supporting her moved up and then down. "He is one of yours. One of your knights."

The Knights of Voltron. The hidden security to keep Altea safe.

"Yes."

"What's his name?"

Shiro was quiet for a moment. "Pidge," he said at last.

A warm cheek pressed against Pidge's forehead and she leaned into the touch like a cat. "Thank you, Pidge," Allura murmured.

The rest of the night was a blur of cloths, liquids, things that were hot, others that were cold, and people tugging at her hands and legs, opening her eyes, and pulling her lips up. At some point, she was swallowed down into a bed and not even the increase in noise could lift her out of the dark well.

It felt like a blink, though, and there was sound; birds, the rustle of fabric, quiet talking. The bed she was on was softer than those in the servant bunks and she moaned, burying herself further into the pillow. Someone giggled and Pidge froze before peeking up over the edge of the blanket.

Princess Allura was sitting in one of the chairs and had changed into something much more comfortable looking than the stiff fabric dress she had been wearing during the party. Her smile was warm, but it quickly vanished as Pidge tried to push herself up.

"No, no, _wait_ , you mustn't—"

The dizziness hit Pidge before she had even managed to get herself fully upright and she, as slowly as she could, lowered herself back down onto the bed. Allura was already standing and was running her hand over the tangled, brown locks, pulling bangs away from a flushed forehead and checking the temperature with the back of her hand.

Pidge had to blink her eyes a couple of times before her vision cleared again, but the warm hand against her brow drew a quiet sigh out of her. The princess ran her thumb over her eyebrow, down her small nose, and then trailed to her cheek. Leaning her head into the touches, Pidge hummed softly in her throat and the motions paused for a second, then continued.

"I don't know what my father was thinking," the princess spoke up and it could have been a rant had her voice not been soft, "Making you drink that; our people always come before diplomacy." Allura huffed. "No matter if they are one of the royal family," her breath brushed over Pidge's forehead, making the brown bangs flutter, "or a young servant girl."

_Girl._

 "Your highness—" Pidge was sure she could explain, she was also sure that Shiro would back her up—but a finger pressed against her lips and she went quiet and stared up at the princess with wide eyes.

"It's alright," Allura said, "Shiro had to tell the doctor and I was trying my best to help," Pidge had seen Lance try that from time to time too—worrying so much that he hovered and then finally was kicked out by either Shiro or Hunk. "You're relieved from duties until you're better and my father has agreed to pay you for the days you would have worked."

Those fingers were still brushing through her hand and over her forehead and Pidge tried to give the Princess as strong of a smile as she could manage but only managed to yawn instead. "Oh, s-sorry, Your Highness."

"Don't worry about it," Allura's voice was soft, "just work on getting better."

Pidge hummed her agreement and rested back onto the pillows. The hand moved away from her forehead and a warm palm cupped her cheek.

Something soft and warm pressed against her lips and Pidge's eyes flew open only to see Allura already pulling back, blue eyes bright with something that could have been mischief before she was fleeing the room in a flurry of white skirts.

Pidge didn't even watch her go and she lifted one hand to touch her fingers against her lips.

"Oh," she said softly.

And then her face turned redder than Keith's normal shirt.

**Author's Note:**

> edit: the first time this was written it was in a lot of haste so a ton of mistakes made their way through. most of them have been fixed now.


End file.
